More Than a Fish Tale
by Farmer Jen
Summary: An old fisherman's reflections make him realize that there's more to life than that morning's catch.
1. Into the album

The sun rose slowly, letting the beach bathe in its pink glow for a long while. The foamy waves lapped softly at the shore, gently rearranging the sand particles beneath them. The small fishing boat sitting beside the short pier could barely be made out in the dim morning light. A medium- sized brown cottage sat on the beach near the pier, accompanied by an abandoned fast-food restaurant. Empty crates sat at the far end of the beach, inhabited by dozing hermit crabs and some small insects.  
  
Greg stepped out of his seaside cottage, fishing pole in hand, and headed for the pier in the hazy light. He loved the tranquil setting of the beach in the early morning light, and would always wake up early in order to watch the sun rise as he fished. On stormy days, he would wake at sunrise anyway just to watch the raindrops join the ocean in a blissful reunion.  
  
Greg liked the beach's quiet setting. It was only loud when the owner of the restaurant came down for the summer. Even then it was relatively calm. The young man who ran it was always quiet out of respect for Greg. The old fisherman would bring the man some of the fish he caught as a trade-off for the serenity he enjoyed, and the man never broke his promise. The only time Greg's peace was disturbed during the summer was during the night, when the young man brought his girlfriend over. They weren't obscenely loud, but Greg was very sensitive to sound.  
  
When he wasn't fishing, Greg spent his time reminiscing. He enjoyed the morning's solitude with his rod and scaly companions, but he liked to be indoors when there was a chance of people dropping by. He shared his cottage with a man named Zack, who was only in the house long enough to sleep. They both had very few possessions, but the house seemed cluttered nonetheless. Zack enjoyed strewing his things about the house, and he was never home long enough to clean anything up. Greg, on the other hand, had all of his things stowed neatly in a small box in the corner. The box held all that was left of the life he had left behind.  
  
He felt a tug on his line, and reeled in his catch. The end of the hook held a wriggling fish, brown in color and of a normal size. Greg took a rock and slammed it down mechanically on the fish's head, stilling it. He removed the hook from its mouth and secured it in the small icebox beside him. Casting his line again, Greg settled back into calmness.  
  
He'd been fishing for so long that he never had to think about what he was doing, which pleased him. Most people dreaded old age, but Greg rather enjoyed it. He didn't do much other than fish, and didn't have to keep his mind on anything in particular for long period of time. His mind wandered constantly, and Greg loved it. Any bad memories that popped into his head would soon be replaced by something else, which was just what he needed sometimes.  
  
The sun continued to rise, going behind Greg's head and taking away its pink glow. He reached his brown, wrinkled hands to the back of his head, removing his hat from his curly white hair. He'd realized that he was the only member of a minority in Mineral Town, but he'd never thought much of it. He wasn't sure if anyone in the town was racist or not, since he tended to shy away from socializing. The only other person he knew of in the village that was close to his skin color was the young man who came during the summers, and he was just very tan. The only people Greg had to worry about were those that lived on the beach, and he knew that neither of them was hateful of different skin pigments. He'd never understood why anyone was like that, but eventually came to accept it as a fact of life. Some people were just ignorant, and it couldn't be helped.  
  
He heard a door swing open, and turned around. Zack was leaving the cottage to do his daily rounds. He waved to Greg, who smiled in response. In the years since he'd moved to the Mineral Town beach, Greg had gotten to know his roommate very well. Zack was a tall, well-built man with dark brown hair and some intense muscles. Most of the villagers viewed Zack as an imposing figure, but Greg saw him as the son he was missing in his mostly happy life in Mineral Town.  
  
Zack's leaving the cottage was the signal for the busy portion of the day to start. Greg reeled in his line and picked up his icebox, containing the one lone fish. He sighed. Some days just weren't good for fishing. He pulled the box and his rod into the house and shut the door behind him. After scaling the fish and washing his hands well, Zack sat slowly down on his mattress, enjoying the feeling of the springy mass beneath him.  
  
He looked around the familiar cottage and noticed his little box, lying alone in the corner. Greg slowly picked himself up off the bed, feeling his joints creak. He frowned. Old age may be good for forgetting, but it didn't help the body out too much. Still, he should be grateful; one of the older villagers in Mineral Town couldn't even walk. Greg reached down and removed the top of the wooden crate, leaving his fingerprints in the dust. He reached his hand into the crate, pulling out an old photograph book. Placing the book on his bed, Greg arranged himself into a comfortable position and flipped open the cover.  
  
The first page greeted him with an old black-and-white photo of a dark young man and woman. The man had springy black curls that slightly stood out from his head, and wore a checkered shirt that was tucked neatly into his pants. The woman had the same corkscrew curls as the man, but hers fell down to her shoulders and were covered by a sun hat. She had on her Sunday best, a formal dress with matching heels. The heels were very small, and gave her little more height than she already had, as was the style in the late 50's.  
  
The picture flooded Greg with memories of the day, and he allowed them in, enjoying the warmth of them.  
  
***  
  
Candice stomped the ground impatiently. "C'mon, Greg!" she called. "I want us to have our picture taken!"  
  
The young man ran his fingers through his hair while looking at his reflection in a window, trying to make it stand up more. "Hold up, Candy," he said. "I'm almost done."  
  
The girl rolled her eyes. "If it gets any bigger, it'll eat someone. Come on! The picture guy's getting bored."  
  
Greg shot a glance at the "picture guy," his friend Charlie. The man did indeed seem to be bored, and was staring wistfully at the rear of one of the passing women. Greg smirked, and, giving his hair a last pull, he headed over to his girlfriend.  
  
"Ready," he said, sliding his arm around her waist.  
  
"About time," she replied, slapping his arm away. "This is supposed to be a formal picture, Greg. No fondling."  
  
A bright flash temporarily blinded him. When his vision returned, Charlie was handing the camera back to him. "See ya after Mass, Greg!" said his friend, and headed toward the church.  
  
Candice took Greg's hand and started to pull him toward the building as well, but Greg playfully slapped her hand away. "This is supposed to be a formal day, Candy," he said in a mock high-pitched voice. "No fondling!" Candice rolled her eyes and dragged him to the church.  
  
After the service, as the sun was setting in the sky, Greg took Candice on a long walk down to the small nearby river. He sat on the banks, spreading his jacket on the ground for her to sit on.  
  
"Is this your fishing spot?" asked Candice, taking a seat on the outspread jacket. Greg nodded. "What's the occasion?"  
  
The young man idly tossed a pebbled into the water, watching as it languidly traveled downstream. He looked over at his girlfriend and studied her face. Her big brown eyes were watching him, waiting for his response. He moved his hand over hers and caressed it. They had been together for over two years now, and he was definitely ready for something more. He didn't want to wait any longer - he was already twenty-three, and wasn't getting any younger. Tonight was the night he would pop the question.  
  
"Candy," he began, "have you ever thought of what you wanted to do for the rest of your life?"  
  
Candice looked at him in a calculating manner, as if trying to read his mind. Then she smiled. "Well, I always thought I'd end up married to a handsome guy, with a couple of kids and a little house with a white picket fence. That is, unless you had something else in mind."  
  
Greg smiled back at her. "Nope. I'd always counted on much the same thing, but married to a pretty woman, of course." He looked away and gave her a sideways glance, smirking. "I wonder where I could find a pretty woman..."  
  
Candice smacked his arm playfully. "You think that's hard? Imagine trying to find a man that doesn't have hair the size of Texas."  
  
He laughed, patting his small afro affectionately. "What, you don't like it?" he asked with a tone of mock offense. Then he looked deeply into her eyes with a serious expression on his face.  
  
"You want to know what big hair is good for?" Greg asked, reaching to the back of his head. He pretended to search in his tuft of hair, and then reached down further and took out a small box that he had hidden in the collar of his shirt. He opened it and held it out to her, revealing a little ring with a sparkling jewel in the middle.  
  
"Candy, will you marry me?" he said.  
  
Candice looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "Oh, Greg," she said, choking on her words, "of course I will." She looked again at the ring, and back at him. "I love you so much!"  
  
"I love you too, Candy. I'll love you forever." 


	2. Things fall apart

Greg snapped out of his flashback and looked fondly down at the picture. The edges of the photo were curled up and yellowed with age. It was so many years in the past, but for some reason, he could remember the events in photographs with perfect lucidity. It was as if he were still a young man, fishing for small fries in the river and fluffing up his hair. Greg smiled. It turned out that his hairstyle became popular a few years later, and wasn't quite as unique as Greg had hoped for it to be.  
  
He flipped through the next few pages, reflecting on each picture as it came up. The pictures were like a mirror into his past, showing Greg vivid visions of himself in his youth. Using his pictures, he could go back to each moment, revisiting each fish he caught, every river he went swimming in, and every kiss he shared with his lover.  
  
Each turn of the page brought up a new image. A lot of the pictures were of him and Candice on their wedding day, but, as Charlie was the photographer, many were of various women's body parts. Greg grinned as he came upon a picture of his wife's midsection. Charlie always was appreciative of a woman's body.  
  
That thought opened up a door to less welcome memories. Greg trued to shut them out, but they forced their way into his head regardless of his efforts. He tried turning the page, but it only made him feel worse. Unwelcome pictures popped up, showing images of his first, and only, child with Candice. The sight of his son as a baby sent Greg over the edge, and the memories consumed him mercilessly.  
  
***  
  
The first few months with Candice went well. Greg loved her, and he supported her as best he could. They bought a little house near the river, where Greg went fishing daily. Fishing was the only way that Greg could find to support his family, and since he was passionate about it, it only made sense for him to do it all the time. Candice would walk along the river while he was fishing, foraging for edible things. Eventually they got a vegetable garden, which provided more of a variety for them to eat. Greg went to the market every Sunday to sell what they didn't end up consuming.  
  
Their happiness didn't seem to be complete, though. After the first bit of marital bliss they shared, Candice started to act a little more coldly toward him. When she went out foraging, she used to stop by his fishing spot and give him a kiss before going on her way. Now it seemed that she avoided him whenever possible. Each night, when Greg tried to make up for their distance during the day, she claimed to be "too tired." He tried talking to her, but she only responded with grunts or monosyllabic words.  
  
After a while, Greg noticed that his wife's belly was growing larger, and took her to the doctor. The man informed them that Candice was pregnant, and Greg rejoiced.  
  
'So that's why she's been so moody!' Greg thought. A child would bring them much closer. He felt the initial warmth he had felt for Candice build up again with the thought of a new life that the two of them had created together. A baby! Greg smiled at the thought of a new fishing partner.  
  
He decided to throw a party in the honor of the little stranger that would soon be joining their family. Their house wasn't too large, so they could only invite a few close friends, but that was fine with him. He left Candice to the invitations, figuring that she would invite a lot of mutual friends, and headed over to the lake to catch their dinner.  
  
Greg came back to the house with a large fish in hand. Candice wasn't home, so he set to de-scaling the fish and gutting it by himself. When he had finished and was washing the fishy smell off his hands, he heard the door open. He turned around in time to see Candice stumble in, her hair tousled and her lipstick a little smudged. He ran over to her and led her to a chair, lowering her gently down onto the surface.  
  
"Are you alright, Candy?" he asked, worried. "What happened?"  
  
She smiled up at him, looking slightly irritated. "I'm fine," she said. "It's just windy out."  
  
'That's funny,' thought Greg, 'I didn't feel any wind when I was out there.' Aloud, he said, "What about your lipstick?" He thought for a moment. "Why are you wearing lipstick in the first place?"  
  
Her eyes widened, looking alarmed, but then she frowned. "Can't I look nice when I hand out invitations?" she asked. "I must've rubbed my mouth on accident while I was out." She pouted at him. "Why are you acting so suspicious? Do you think that just because I'm pregnant I don't want to look my best?"  
  
Greg immediately felt bad. "No, no, that's not what I thought at all." He smiled lovingly at her, and placed a hand on her stomach. "I was just worried about you, Candy. I don't want anything happening to you or little Greg Junior."  
  
Her eye twitched a bit in irritation. "Help me up, will you, Greg? I need to get dinner ready."  
  
"Sorry!" he exclaimed, and lifted her out of the seat.  
  
The two combined their efforts to prepare a meal worthy of the celebration. By the time they had finished, the first of the guests were arriving. Greg had been right about his earlier assumption: Candice did indeed invite all their mutual friends. One of the first few people in the door was Charlie, and they both went over to greet him. The thought that Candice's hug was a little longer than normal flitted into Greg's mind, but he dismissed it with the fact that Charlie flirted with every girl he could find, whether they were married of not. He smiled and continued greeting guests.  
  
The night was pleasant, and Greg enjoyed himself. At one point, Candice disappeared, and he walked around looking for her. He couldn't find Charlie either, and was just about to continue a conversation with one of his guests when he saw them both emerge from his bedroom, looking a bit disheveled. The situation looked a bit too suspicious for Greg to ignore, so he went over to them.  
  
"What happened to you two?" he asked warily.  
  
They both looked a little guilty, but then Candice smiled. "Charlie wanted to look at the wedding pictures he took. I knew that our photo album was somewhere under the bed, but I couldn't find it, so we both had to look for it under there. Right, Charlie?"  
  
Charlie nodded hastily. "Of course!" he said. "What'd you think we did, Greg?"  
  
Greg smiled sheepishly, wondering why he was being so apprehensive. "I don't know," he said. "I guess I'm just overprotective when it comes to you, Candy. When I couldn't find you, I got worried. I'm sorry."  
  
Candice smiled and pushed her husband playfully. "It's okay, honey. I forgive you."  
  
They all smiled, and continued on with the festivities.  
  
The months passed by slowly, with Candice growing more irritated with Greg with every passing day. He didn't understand what he was doing wrong, and when he tried to ask her, she just snapped at him. He tried to bring her gifts, but she would end up throwing them against the wall in her constant fits of anger with him.  
  
The only person she seemed to be calm around was Charlie. In order to try and keep the peace in his house, Greg invited his friend over a lot in attempts to pacify his wife. He wasn't sure how Charlie managed to keep her happy, but he definitely felt jealous. He was accustomed to his friend's flirtatious nature, but he never thought that Charlie was capable of actually loving someone. And that's what the feeling between Candice and Charlie was: love. He considered banning Charlie from the house, but then thought that it would just cause more distance between Candice and him. Greg decided that the only way to keep the peace between them, and let their child come into a happy household, was to ignore the fact that Candice didn't love him anymore.  
  
One day, as he was removing the scales from that day's catch, he saw Candice walking toward the door.  
  
"Where are you going?" he asked.  
  
"I want to sleep over at a friend's house tonight, okay?"  
  
Greg's eyes widened in alarm, and he looked at his wife's protruding stomach. He knew exactly which friend she was referring to, and he was immediately worried about it. Wouldn't that kind of activity hurt the baby in some way? He figured that that wouldn't be a very good thing to say to her, though, and said, "Are you sure that's a good idea?"  
  
Candice snapped and stomped her foot. "Goddess, Greg, do you think you own me or something? I'll do what I want, when I want, and I won't have you holding me back!" With that, she ran out of the house, slamming the door behind her.  
  
All he could do was stare at the door for a moment, incredulous. Then he sank down to his knees, the hurt he had been feeling for months seeming to drag him down. She really didn't love him anymore. What had he done to deserve such foul treatment? Greg climbed back to his feet, his throat tightening from the emotional abuse he forced himself to endure. He finished up his work with the fish, stored it, and went to bed, feeling his long-hidden tears welling up in his eyes. He cried himself to sleep that night, only to have his tearstained face ignored by his wife the next morning.  
  
When Candice finally gave birth to his son, Greg rejoiced. The little boy was flawless, adorable in the way that all babies are. He looked more like his mother than his father, but Greg knew that it was really too early to tell. The best part of having the child was that Candice was too busy with him to go see Charlie, and she stopped being so snappy. The only problem they really had was with the boy's name. Greg wanted to name him after himself, but Candice was against that for some reason. They argued over it for a while, and finally came to agree on "Michael," named after some relative of Candice's.  
  
To Greg, Michael seemed to grow up in a flash. He brought his son with him on his fishing trips and taught him about every facet of his trade. Michael listened to every word he said, and caught on very quickly. Soon enough, Greg decided that Michael was old enough for his first fishing rod. He showed him how to make one, and the boy was delighted. Every day while his father fished on the riverbanks, Michael followed suite, catching the tiny fish that were all his rod could handle. Greg took him to the market occasionally, and was proud of his son's ability to sell his own catch at such a young age.  
  
Michael greatly helped to ease Greg's pain. He knew that Candice was still cheating on him, and that she still resented living in his house, but having another person to love made Greg feel a lot better. Once the boy had grown up enough to be out of diapers, Candice had left him alone, preferring the company of her lover over that of her child. Michael seemed to sense his father's tension, and slowly drifted further from his mother. Greg never quite understood why she would give up on the boy that she gave birth to, but he was glad that she didn't torment the child as she did him.  
  
One day, Greg woke to the sound of silence and realized that the house was empty. He got up and looked around for his family, and then noticed a note on the table. He ignored it for the moment, and concentrated on his breakfast. When he had sated his hunger, He looked at the note. The words on it made him drop the bowl he had been eating out of, shattering it on the floor.  
  
'Greg:  
  
I can't take it anymore. I've hated this life with you since the beginning. I hate this small-town life, I hate having fish for dinner every night, and, most of all, I hate you. You thought that you could force me into an unwanted marriage, and never let me go. Well, you were wrong. Charlie promised to take me to the big city, and he went through with it. I'm going to have a better life now, and I'm bringing the kid with me. The world doesn't need any more useless fishermen, and I think you've tainted him enough with your bad habits as it is. We're gone now, so don't follow us. If I ever see you near me or Michael again, I'll call the cops. Goodbye, Greg.  
  
Candice'  
  
***  
  
Greg sniffed, his back shaking with the effort of holding in his grief. He let the photo album slip out of his hands and onto the floor, curling up on his mattress. Checking to see that Zack wasn't home, he buried his head in his pillow, letting his tears flow down his weathered face and onto the soft surface.  
  
He was alone. 


	3. Misunderstandings

Zack quietly pushed open the door and stepped inside his cabin. He had just been passing by, but the sounds of sobbing coming from his house made him stop. He closed the door behind him, careful not to make a sound. Greg, the old fisherman who lived with him, was shaking in misery on his bed. Zack looked around for the source of the pain, and saw a photo album lying open on the floor. This surprised him, as he'd never seen any of Greg's personal possessions before.  
  
He took a step forward, planning on retrieving the album, and stepped on a creaky floorboard. Greg looked up immediately, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.  
  
"I'm sorry!" said Zack, stepping back. "I just wanted to-"  
  
"To see who was crying?" asked Greg. "I guess old men and young boys are more alike than people would guess, hmm?"  
  
Zack shook his head rapidly. "No, not at all!" He sighed and sat down on the edge of Greg's mattress, causing it to sink with his bulk. "You know, you've never told me anything about yourself. Sometimes it helps to talk about stuff. It's not a sign of weakness, just a way to ease your pain."  
  
Greg sighed as well. "You're right," he said. "It's just that...well, I've only confided in one other person, and she left me because of it."  
  
Zack patted his friend on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Greg," he said. "I'm not as fickle as a woman. I'm here for you, man."  
  
Greg smiled slightly. "That's a comforting thought," he said.  
  
***  
  
After Candice left him, Greg didn't know what to do. At first, he sat around his house, staring listlessly at the walls. He didn't go out to fish until the hunger pangs grew too intense to ignore, and even then he didn't feel much like eating. Fishing helped him to keep his mind off the incident a little, but not much. He was seriously considering suicide one day when he heard a knock on his door.  
  
"Greg?" called a voice from outside. Greg rose and went to the door, opening it. A neighbor of his was outside, a piece of paper in hand. "I just came over to say 'hi.' How are you feeling?"  
  
Greg shrugged, not feeling much like talking. The neighbor hesitated, and then continued talking. "Listen, Greg. Everyone's worried about you. We had a little meeting last night, and decided that the best way to help you would be to send you away from here. Memories have the tendency to linger in familiar areas, and the only way to get rid of them is to live somewhere else."  
  
Greg lifted the corner of his mouth in a wry smile. "So you're saying that my depressive mood is bringing down the town, and you want me out. I understand completely."  
  
The neighbor waved his hand frantically. "No, you got the wrong impression! We actually heard about a nice little coastal town where fishing is the main industry. We pooled together our funds, and got you enough for bus fares to the place."  
  
Greg lifted his eyebrows. "You guys must be pretty desperate if you're *paying* to get me out of here."  
  
His neighbor sighed impatiently. "Look, Greg, just take the money. I'm too busy right now to waste time convincing you that we care. Enjoy your new life!" With that, he stomped away.  
  
Greg eyed the money thoughtfully. The neighbor was right; he could never forget Candice if he stayed in the same place forever. His only option was to get out of there and try to reconstruct his life. Any town with a big fishing industry probably wouldn't be too close to a big city, so he wouldn't have to worry about running into Candy.  
  
He sighed, and looked around his house. He hadn't been in it for as long as he would have liked to be, but his mind had firmly defined the place as "home." Greg took a last look at the familiar room, and sighed again. 'I guess this is goodbye, house,' he thought. With that, he headed to his room and started packing, ready to leave in the morning.  
  
Soon enough, he was on the road. Greg sat on the bus seat, staring idly out the window at the passing shapes. He hadn't realized how long the trip to his new home would take, and the bus trip was getting rather boring. He had been interested during the first couple of days, but once they got into the flat, empty lands out in the boonies somewhere, he had lost his interest. Greg had had more fun watching grass grow while he was fishing.  
  
He woke with a start when the bus jerked to a stop. Stretching his legs out, Greg yawned, looking out the window. The trip had taken four days, allowing very few stops, and it was night in the little seaside down they had stopped in. The shadows of fishing boats swayed near the docks, and a couple of soft street lights illuminated some small houses and empty streets.  
  
A few of the passengers got off, heading toward a nearby building, Greg grabbed his bags and followed suite. Inside of the building sat a small desk with a sleepy-looking man resting in a chair behind it. One of the passengers went up to him and asked about buying a home, and the man gave him quite a few options, all with very low prices. Greg smiled. It seemed that opportunities were just laying themselves in his path.  
  
After buying his own cheap little house, Greg laid down for the night, staring at eh ceiling as he drifted out of consciousness. It seemed that things would finally be alright.  
  
The months passed in lazy succession, each one pushing Candice further from Greg's mind. He seemed to have amazing luck with his catches, and was making more than enough money to live in comfort. His loneliness still hurt him, and though he knew that the pain would never fully go away, he felt that he was slowly gaining the upper hand on his bad memories.  
  
One day, while Greg was out fishing on the pier, he saw a little girl playing with a ball. She had dark skin and hair, and was wearing a cute yellow sun dress with matching ribbons in her hair. Greg smiled and watched her play, feeling a stab of longing for his son. The girl's ball bounced close to the edge of the dock, and he watched her even more closely, the instinctive paternal anxiety taking over him.  
  
Suddenly, the girl tripped, falling in the water. Greg stood up in alarm, dropping his fishing pole, wondering if the girl could swim. She flailed her arms around and screamed desperately for help. Greg kicked off his boots and jumped into the water, grabbing the little girl in one arm and keeping himself afloat with the other. He pulled her onto the pier with him, and she coughed up a bit of water.  
  
A woman came running toward them, a look of frantic worry in her eyes. She ran over to them, scooping up the wet little girl and hugging her closely.  
  
"Oh, Sophie, I'm so glad you're alright!" cried the woman, rocking what was obviously her daughter back and forth in her arms. "What did I tell you about playing by yourself near the pier?"  
  
"Sorry, Mommy," said the little girl.  
  
The woman looked at Greg, gratitude shining in her eyes. "Thank you so much, sir! You saved her life, and...I don't know what I would do without my Sophie. How can I ever repay you?"  
  
Greg smiled softly, wringing out his shirt. "It was no problem, miss," he said. "I would have done the same thing for my son." He swallowed heavily, surprised at his sudden surge of emotion.  
  
The woman noticed his distress, and her brow furrowed. "Would you like to come over for a cup of tea?" she asked. At Greg's nod, she said, "Just follow me, then."  
  
He did as he was bid, and followed the woman to her house. She excused herself for a moment to put dry clothes on her daughter, and then came back to him with a towel and a small pile of clothing.  
  
"I'm sorry I don't have better clothes to loan you," she said. "You see, my husband left us a few months ago, but he didn't leave very much behind."  
  
Greg accepted the clothing with a nod. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said. "My wife left me somewhat recently as well, but she took everything with her." He swallowed again, struggling to keep down the lump in his throat.  
  
The woman showed him to a room where he could change, and he went into it. The clothes fit him surprisingly well. When he left the room, he found her standing near a steaming tea kettle on a stove. The kettle started screeching, and she took it off the stove, pouring them both a cup of tea. They sat across from each other at a small table, sipping their tea.  
  
The woman put down her cup in mid-sip, letting out a small laugh. "I haven't even told you my name!" she said, smiling at him. "I'm Tanya. What's your name?"  
  
"I'm Greg," he replied. "It's nice to meet you, Tanya."  
  
Indeed, it was nice. Tanya seemed to have a sweet disposition and a face to go along with it. She looked like an older, more mature version of her daughter, which was a good omen for little Sophie. Greg found that she was very easy to talk to, and they only paused in their conversation when they noticed the fading light. They said goodbye, and planned on meeting each other later.  
  
Tanya seemed to be the missing link in Greg's life. She didn't have much money, and only made ends meet by taking up side jobs. Greg continued to have excellent luck with his fishing, and tried to help her out as much as he could. He felt that little flutter in his heart that had once been there for Candice return in full force, but this time with a new owner.  
  
The most surprising thing to Greg was Sophie's affection toward him. The little girl took to him quite quickly, and he felt the same paternal affection for her that he had for Michael. His life seemed to be mending itself before his eyes, and he loved every moment of it. Whether he spent the day talking to Tanya while he fished or playing with Sophie in the park while Tanya was at work, he was always happier than he had been since before he married Candice.  
  
Greg and Tanya sat on the pier, watching the sun set on the horizon. There was a calm air of silence around them, and Greg felt at peace with himself.  
  
"Greg?" said Tanya. Greg squeezed her hand lightly in response. "Did I ever tell you why my husband isn't here?"  
  
"No," replied Greg. Tanya adjusted herself so that she could lean comfortably on his shoulder.  
  
"We lived in another town before we moved to this one. He went to the city one day, leaving Sophie and I behind. He was a horrible brute, really, and we were glad that he left. He...hit me, and he did it a lot. I was always so afraid that he'd do it to Sophie one day, and I felt so relieved when he finally went away.  
  
"Unfortunately, he planned on coming back. He only took a bit of his personal belongings, leaving everything except for most of his clothes and money. I was so scared of his return that I packed up and moved, knowing that he'd never come to look for me in a fishing community." She snuggled into his arm, smiling. "I'm so happy I was paranoid. I love it here...the fresh fish, the people, the wonderful men; what more could a girl ask for?"  
  
Greg kissed the top of her head. "Even if he did come here for you, he'd have to go through me first. I love you, Tanya."  
  
Tanya looked up at him in surprise, smiling broadly. "I was hoping you'd say that!" she exclaimed. She hugged him tightly. "I know how hard it must be for you to trust again, Greg. I'll never betray your trust, and that's a promise."  
  
One day, when he went over to visit Tanya, she wasn't home. "Tanya!" he called. There wasn't an answer, and he figured that she had taken Sophie somewhere for the day. He went around the back just to make sure, and found a note on the door. Cold dread grasped his heart, and he was stricken by memories of what had happened the last time he found a note at home.  
  
He pulled the note off the door, holding it in shaking fingers. There were a couple of words written in a hurried script, and he could barely read them.  
  
"Greg- husband came. Love. Bye."  
  
Greg stared at the letter in sheer horror. Not only had her husband come for her, she decided that she loved him. Shock at the termination of their brief time together hit him, and he stared blankly at the piece of paper. After a while, he turned resolutely toward his home. When he got there, he packed his clothing and belongings, and headed toward the local ferry.  
  
He got to the ferry building, and asked the man behind the counter for a ticket.  
  
"Where to?" asked the man.  
  
Greg shrugged. "Where's the most isolated place you can think of?"  
  
The man thought for a moment, and then snapped his fingers. "I've got just the place for you, buddy. Smallest population you've ever seen, and great fishing to boot. The ferry for that one leaves in a couple of minutes, though, so you'll have to haul tail to get there."  
  
Greg nodded. "That's fine," he said. He bought the ticket that the man handed to him and ran to the ferry. After giving the captain of the ferry his ticket, he settled down on a chair and waited.  
  
It was a long boat ride, and Greg ended up talking to the captain to pass the time and keep the shock of recent events from settling in.  
  
"So, where are we heading to?" he asked.  
  
"A nice little island called 'Mineral Town,'" replied the captain.  
  
'Mineral Town, huh?' thought Greg. 'Looks like I've got a new place to call home.' 


	4. Fishing for Mermaids

Greg looked down at his mattress, trying to avoid eye contact with Zack. He didn't like confiding in people; after his two lovers had left him, the thought of sharing his emotions scared him. He had made some friends, both in and outside of Mineral Town, but he shied away from growing close to them. He felt that, if he had made all his loved ones leave him, he must not be a good person to have around. On the outside, Greg was friendly and happy, but within, he was like a troubled adolescent, constantly feeling insignificant to the world.  
  
Zack patted his friend on the shoulder. He would've never thought that Greg had such a horrid past. The old fisherman had always been so cheerful, and always helped out the villagers who were new to fishing. Then again, Zack had never asked him about his past. Greg was always listening to his problems, but he never complained about what had happened to him. Zack felt as if he owed something to the old man.  
  
"Hold on a minute," said Zack. "Didn't you say that you thought Tanya left you because you confided in her?"  
  
"Yeah," replied Greg. "I told her everything about Candice, and when her husband came back, she left with him."  
  
Zack's brow furrowed. That didn't sound quite right. "Did you save the note?"  
  
Greg nodded and reached for his photo album. He removed a picture from one of the slots, and an aging piece of paper tumbled out with it. He handed the note to Zack, who read it over a couple of times.  
  
"What do you think she meant by this, Greg?"  
  
Greg took the piece of paper. It said the same thing it always had, reading, "Greg- husband came. Love. Bye." He looked up at his roommate, and said, "She meant that her husband came for her, and she decided that she loved him. Then she said goodbye."  
  
Zack shook his head. "Are you sure you're not misinterpreting that?" he asked. "From what you told me, Tanya despised her husband. He hit her all the time, and then left them without warning. Heck, she even moved to protect herself and her daughter from him! Maybe she meant to tell you that her husband took her away, but she still loved you."  
  
Greg thought about that for a moment, surprised. He had never thought about it that way. He had been in shock when he received the note, oblivious to the world, and hadn't even noticed that he might have been thinking of it the wrong way. Of course! If hindsight was 20-20 vision, then Greg just got laser surgery.  
  
The smile that had momentarily appeared on his face disappeared, and Greg shook his head sadly. "What's wrong?" asked Zack, puzzled. He thought his friend would be happy.  
  
Greg heaved a sigh, and looked up at his younger roommate. "I just realized what I lost," he said. "I could've gone after her then, if I had realized what the note meant. Now, she could be anywhere, and I'm too old to go out looking for her. For all I know, she could be dead."  
  
Zack snorted incredulously. "How can you say that, Greg? Don't give up hope so easily! We'll find her someday...you'll see."  
  
***  
  
Greg stared idly at the clump of sand in front of him. Boredom had driven the old man to making sandcastles in a remote corner of the beach, but even that was growing old. Greg had never been very good at making symmetrical objects, so he ended up molding the sand into fish-like shapes. He sighed, realizing that his hobby would never escape him.  
  
"Greg!" called a voice. It was Zack. The fisherman quickly stood up and dusted the sand off his pants before walking toward his friend's voice.  
  
"Where are you, Zack?"  
  
"Inside," Zack replied. "You've got to see this fishing show on TV- I think you'll really like it!"  
  
Greg shrugged and went in his house. He found Zack reclining on one of the mattresses, watching the screen in front of him. He joined the younger man, his joints creaking as he sat down.  
  
"And now it's time for 'Fishing for Mermaids,' the show that helps you find your loved ones! Today's guest is Mr. Hardy Weinberg, who is searching for his daughter, Chelsea. Hardy, is there anything you'd like to say?"  
  
"Yes, Bob, there is. Chelsea, I'm sorry. I should have supported you in your decisions in life, but I didn't. If you're out there, I want you to know that I love you, and want you to come home."  
  
"You heard him, folks! If any of you find Chelsea out there, give us a call at 1-800-MERMAID, and we'll reunite her with her father. Can we catch her, or will she be another elusive mermaid? Tune in next week to find out!"  
  
Greg shook his head, smiling slightly. "Fishing show, huh?" he asked.  
  
Zack grinned. "I thought you might be interested. Who knows who watches this kind of stuff? Tanya might tune in one day."  
  
Greg raised an eyebrow. "I doubt that," he said. "She wasn't the kind of person who would watch an Oprah rip-off."  
  
Zack lightly slapped his friend on the back. "You're such a pessimist, Greg!" he said. "Give it a chance. You never know what will happen."  
  
***  
  
One week later, Greg found himself in front of the television, waiting for the show to begin. He didn't believe that anything would happen, but Zack's words had given him a little lift in spirit. He was a little embarrassed to be watching the show at all, but he listened to the voice in the back of his head that told him to watch.  
  
"Hello, and welcome to 'Fishing for Mermaids,' the show that helps you find your loved ones! I'm Bob, your host. Last week, our guest was Mr. Hardy Weinberg, who was searching for his daughter. Here he is again, folks."  
  
A man walked onto the screen and sat on a chair to the right of the host. "Hardy," continued the host, "it seems that someone out there found your daughter! She couldn't make it to the show today, but she left you a letter." The man read the letter, and tears ran down his cheeks. "What does it say, Hardy?"  
  
The man wiped his tears away. "It says that she loves me and will call me soon! She's sorry that she took a job I didn't like, and she wants me to know that she quit it as soon as she saw me on TV. She also says that she's going to be married soon, and that I'm invited to her wedding!"  
  
"If you don't mind my asking, Hardy, exactly what profession was Chelsea in that you objected so strongly to?"  
  
The man grinned, hugging the letter. "She was an exotic dancer," he replied.  
  
The audience burst into laughter, and the man was ushered off the stage. The host began to talk again. "I'm sure that we're all very happy that Chelsea's going home- except her clients, of course. Today's fisherman is Mr. Michael, who is looking for his father, Greg."  
  
Greg stared at the television screen, his jaw dropping. He watched as his son, now fully grown, walked to the chair and sat down. The man on the screen had many of Candice's features, but had some of Greg's, as well. He was so much older than Greg remembered him being, but the old man had no difficulty recognizing the boy as his own.  
  
"Welcome, Michael. You say that you're looking for your father...would you mind telling us the story?"  
  
"No problem, Bob," replied Michael. "My mother ran off with me when I was nine, leaving my father behind. He hadn't done anything wrong to her; she just wanted a big city life, which my father, a fisherman, couldn't give her. When I was old enough, I went to a community college, and met the woman of my dreams. Now I'd like to find my father and introduce him to his soon-to-be daughter-in-law."  
  
"A touching story," said the host. "Is there anything you'd like to say to your father, Michael?"  
  
"Of course," he said. "Dad, I miss you and love you. I'm sorry for what Mom did to you, and I want you to know that I had no choice in the matter. I want to see you again, Dad!"  
  
Greg felt his eyes watering. "I do too, Michael," he said to the screen.  
  
"You heard him, folks!" said the host. "If any of you know Greg, give us a call at 1-800-MERMAID, and we'll reunite this family! Can we catch him, or is he another elusive merman? Tune in next week to find out!"  
  
Greg reached for the phone and quickly dialed the number on the screen. So many things had gone wrong in his life, and now he had the opportunity to make something right.  
  
***  
  
Zack sat on his mattress with a glass of Coke, watching television. He didn't have many opportunities to relax, and he liked to enjoy what little time he had. Greg wasn't in the house very much, so he had the house to himself. Zack paused in that thought. He hadn't seen Greg at all lately, now that he thought about it. The last time he had seen the fisherman had been two days past. The younger man grew a bit worried, and was about to call for help when he heard his friend's name mentioned on the TV screen.  
  
"It's time again for 'Fishing for Mermaids,' the show that helps you find your loved ones. Last week, we had Mr. Michael on the show, who was searching for his father, Greg. Michael?"  
  
A boy that looked surprisingly like Greg walked on the stage, sitting in a chair next to the host. Zack dropped his glass, splattering Coke all over the place. It was Greg's son! The one he hadn't seen for nearly thirty years! Zack shook his head in disbelief.  
  
The host continued his speech. "Michael, we found your father! In fact, he called in himself as soon as he saw last week's show. Greg, come on out!"  
  
The old fisherman walked onto the stage, and the boy jumped up ecstatically. "Dad!" he cried, knocking over the chair in his enthusiasm. The two embraced, and the studio audience applauded in the background.  
  
"So," said the host, "what have you been up to for all these years, Greg?"  
  
Greg sat at a chair next to his son, smiling happily. "Well, I moved a few times, lived life...nothing too extraordinary. I just really missed my son, and am glad to see him again. Thanks for giving us this opportunity, Bob."  
  
The host smiled. "That's my job!" he said. The two were ushered off the stage, and a new person came on, but Zack switched off the television set. He picked up a rag and started cleaning up his spilt Coke, still smiling. He was glad that Greg had finally found his mermaid.  
  
***  
  
A few seasons later, Greg sat fishing on the pier of the Mineral Town beach. He had gone to his son's wedding a little while after appearing on the show, and had instantly fallen in love with his new family. Michael's wife was a real sweetheart, and he was glad that the two had found each other. The woman liked Greg a lot, as well, and offered to let him stay with them sometime. Greg accepted her offer, and planned to go visit them every winter- the one season with very bad fishing.  
  
The crisp fall air felt cool on Greg's skin, and he smiled. Soon enough, he'd be with his son's family, enjoying the feeling of unity that he had so long been denied. He still tuned in to "Fishing for Mermaids," hoping to see someone else from his past, but it hadn't happened as of yet. He was content with what he had, though. He would love to see Tanya and Sophie again, but he knew how doubtful that was.  
  
Zack walked over to him, shuffling through a pile of letters. "You've got mail, Greg," he said, handing a letter to him. Greg took the letter as Zack walked back to the house with his own mail. He tore at the edge with a fingernail, revealing the stationary within. Opening the letter, he began to read it.  
  
"Dear Greg,  
  
I saw you on television the other day, and I'm glad that you found your son again. I contacted Michael, who said that you'll be visiting him in the winter annually. He offered to let me come over as well, and I accepted. Things must have seemed somewhat hectic when I left, and I'm sorry that I had to leave you like I did. It was no choice of mine, that's for sure. I'm looking forward to see you again, as is Sophie. I love you, and always will!  
  
Love,  
  
Tanya"  
  
Greg smiled, feeling his cheeks growing moist. He had Michael back, and now he had the love of his life back, as well. It seemed that thing were finally going to be alright. 


End file.
